


tired (x2)

by Sonny



Series: WORD : GAMES (Redux) [2]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-10
Updated: 2009-03-10
Packaged: 2017-10-16 20:41:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonny/pseuds/Sonny





	tired (x2)

 

**Word** **is... TIRED**

**~ &~&~&~&~&~&~&~**   
**Lindsay / Gus / Melanie**

**  
**

Lindsay pulled into the driveway, shutting off the engine after she sat idle with the car running. She needed to collect herself, calm her equilibrium to an even keel. She finger-combed her mussed blonde locks from her face, finally rifling through her purse for a hair clip to pin back those loose strands she couldn't tame. She then flipped down the windshield visor to re-apply her faded-- _smudged_ \--lipstick. 

When she was at a place where she knew she could walk into the house and face Melanie's wrath without arguing back, she climbed out of the car, swinging her purse and the small book file of pictures of artwork over her left shoulder. She was heading to the side door, from the cramped driveway, planning to come through the house via the washroom and kitchen area. Hopefully, Melanie hadn't been waiting for too long. 

As she entered the kitchen, Lindsay caught sight of her son, Gus, seated at the table, diligently drawing on several sheets of blank paper. 

Gus turned to smile at his mother. "Hi, Mommy." 

Lindsay was almost too eager-- _and too thankful_ \--Gus was seeing her first. She knew she probably smelled like cheap alcohol, sex and male cologne. _Damn!_ She should've doused a little perfume on before she had walked in. "Heyyy, bug." She kissed the top of the dark brown hair, so like his father's and just as soft to touch. "Whatcha drawing?" She had set down her purse and file book by the side of her chair, taking a seat beside Gus, looking over his efforts. Lindsay was always impressed with Gus' imagination and creativity level for his age. She would love to claim it was from her DNA, but more than likely it was Brian's DNA and Michael's influences. 

"Tha's _**us** _ ." Gus pointed out with one crayon in his hand. "--you, Melly--me, the baby--Daddy an' Uncle Mike." 

Lindsay had to chuckle at the way Gus had the height differences between Brian and Michael, which spoke of how keen an "eye" her son had. Just as she was about to say something in reply, she heard a soft cough from the living room. From the corner of her eye, she saw a light turn off as the _scrape-scrape_ of worn slippers sounded on the hardwood flooring. She looked up to find Melanie making her way down the foyer hall to the kitchen. Lindsay sat perfectly erect in her seat, prepared for Melanie's tirade or at least a snide remark about where she had been for most of the evening into night. 

Instead, as Melanie walked into the kitchen, she yawned and stretched, a hand going to her lower back to work out the kinks. The six-month pregnant belly was popping out from under the knee-length nightgown. She waddled to the sink to put away her empty mug and spoon. She was wearing her rattiest robe over her bed-wear--a man's robe that Lindsay recalled had been Melanie's father, before he passed away. 

Lindsay was actually more scared of the silence. "Need some help upstairs, Momma?" She lightly teased, eying Melanie's trek around the other side of the table to come up to Gus', kiss his temple, heading in the direction of the stairs to waddle back through the foyer hallway. There was nothing more appealing and sweet to her than a woman in impending motherhood and something always very sexy about a drowsy Melanie all in disarray. 

Melanie ran a hand through her short spiked hair, sending the strands all over the place. Tucking her hands in the robe pockets, she arched on the doorway to stretch her back more. "I did absolutely _nuh-thang_ today, yet I'm still utterly exhausted." She had never understood with Lindsay's pregnancy and it wasn't any clearer during hers. 

"Well, remember that your body is not your own. You're living for two." 

"Yeah, but you'd think with the crap I eat, from these ridiculous cravings I get, it would make me _more_ energetic not so damn  **tired** all the time." Melanie pushed off the doorway with some slight frustration. 

Lindsay watched the slow retreating waddle down the hallway. "Do you need a hand? Or at least a 'spotter'?" 

"Nah--I'm good." Melanie scratched at the hairline on her nape. One hand was around the bulbous top of the staircase post. "Gus had his bath and a snack. I just didn't have any energy left to put him to bed." There was a whole routine down of tucking him in and reading him to sleep. She was afraid _she_ would doze off in the middle of reading, so she kept them both awake downstairs until Lindsay returned home to take over things. Right now it didn't matter _what_ had kept Lindsay from coming home at her regular time and missing the dinner Melanie had made. 

"Oh... I'll do that, Mel. You get upstairs, soak in a bath. Once Gus is in bed, I'll be in to check on you." Lindsay didn't know which was worse; the constant fighting about every little shift or change in their normal daily routine or the complete silence and quiet acceptance that... yeah, sometimes there would be an occasional "late day". 

Melanie had one foot on the first step, using the railing as support. "Oh, uhm... if you're still hungry, there's a dinner plate in the fridge for you. You'll just have to reheat it." She began her climb upward, no longer giving attention to Lindsay or Gus. 

"Oh, no... I missed out on Melly's Lasagna Night, didn't I?" Lindsay glanced at Gus, who slowly nodded his head on a single bounce. She heard the creak of the stairs, having completely ignored Melanie's slow trek up the steps, one at a time. She turned back to watch how concentrated Gus was on his next picture. "So... did you have fun at your Dad's, honey?" She soothed a hand over his small hunched back. 

"Yup." 

Lindsay nodded her head, picking up a few crayons of her own, then snatching empty drawing paper for herself. "Good." She bit down on her bottom lip. "I'm glad one of us had a enjoyable day." 

**~ &~&~&~... Meanwhile...~&~&~&~**

**Brian / Michael**

**  
**

Michael got up to head in the direction of the fridge, opening the door to bend and peer inside. 

Brian heard the grumbling and swear words. "What's your fuckin' problem _ now _ ?" 

"Huh?" The dark head popped out over the top rim of the door. "What?" 

"That's the fourth or fifth time you've been in the kitchen, third time in the fridge. Are you hoarding for Winter?" Brian snickered at his own tease, then quieted when Michael didn't reciprocate. 

"I don't know." Michael shrugged one shoulder, then the other as he stood upright. "I'm hungry." 

"We had a big lunch with Gus. Remember?" 

"Uh, yeah... but that was hours ago." 

"If you're not careful, Mikey, you'll get fat and no one will ever want to fuck you ever again, especially Bruckner." 

"Great. I'll simply add that flaw to my 'other' unattractive qualities." Michael twisted to grin at Brian with a tilt to his head. "At least _you'll_ still love me, right?" 

Brian only had to raise both eyebrows to make Michael annoyed with him. On a flash of fury, Michael spun around to find that jar of peanut butter he had seen hours ago. He pulled out some vegetables that _could be_ celery sticks; well, they were _still_ crunchy. He went looking for cream cheese and the half bottle of green olives. Once everything was out on the counter, Michael went in search of a dull butter knife. 

"Whatcha drawing?" Michael actually scooped out a huge clump of peanut butter and stuck it in his mouth. 

Unfortunately, Brian glanced up at about the time Michael's tongue was curling around the polished silverware, licking off every smear left. He felt his throat constrict on a hard swallow. Tough to speak after witnessing an action of that caliber. "Uhm... _something_ for work." Lie. 

Thankfully, Michael hadn't come anywhere near the dining room table to see. Brian was sketching something for Michael on poster board with a film of transparent paper over the top. He was flipping back and forth between each drawing. At first, he had begun both drawings in pencil with a heavy lead point. Now he was using colored pencils and dark permanent markers. He was really quite impressed with what he had accomplished so far, hoping Michael would appreciate the sentiment of the simple gift. Brian just wasn't the "baby shower" type gift-giving person. 

Michael plated his celery sticks, putting away the food he had finished using. "Want another beer?" 

"Nah. I'll take a bottled water, though." 

Michael grabbed for two bottled waters, coming close enough to the table to toss one to Brian. He swiped up his plate and trailed back into the living room area. He had a nice pig out section mapped out for himself. Michael plopped down on the couch, turning the volume of the TV back up. The movie had returned from commercial break. 

"Why don't you watch a DVD, Michael? Commercials cut out the good stuff and networks fuck with the foul language." 

"Commercials give me a chance to pee, get something to snack on." Michael swung his legs onto the cushions to relax in the corner of arm rest and sofa-back. "--'sides, I'm in the mood to see _this_ one. You don't have it, 'cuz I checked." 

"Fine." 

"Yeah, fine." 

"--whatever." Brian looked at the time, making sure it read correct to his eyes. "Are you planning on staying the night?" He would welcome the company, but unsure if the "husband" would be calling at a weird hour to check up on Michael. 

"Trying to kick me out?" Michael sniffled out a chuckle, wondering where Justin had gone off to and why Brian hadn't suggested they hit the clubs after dropping off Gus to Melanie. 

"It's getting late and you haven't called Benjamin." 

"He's out tonight. And why do you even care?" 

"What? Benjamin has his own posse?" 

"--buncha fuckin' Gym Bunnies." 

"--and, for your information, I really could care less. He's the man you've chosen to love, live with and spend the rest of your god-awful life chained to--" 

"--thanks--thanks for never forgetting to remind me." 

The loft went quiet. Brian could hear the soft crunching of celery sticks, the bad movie dialog and the background scenery noises on screen. The film, to its benefit, had a decent soundtrack, so Brian found himself shifting in his chair a little to the 5.1 Dolby-Digital surround sound beat. 

A few random minutes later Brian took a long swig of water and brushed his palms together. He stood out of his chair to head into the bathroom to take a quick piss, flushed, washed his hands and came back out to pick up the drawing. He was still a bit nervous to show Michael what he had been doodling, which had only come to mind to him a few nights ago in a sudden creative moment. But hell--it was an all-around cool and thrilling day to watch Michael and Gus interact together. The time spent with them had certainly helped with his creative spark. 

For everything Michael had done for him, this sketch was _the least_ Brian could do. Michael wasn't the type to like much in material things. "Oh-kay..." He held the board outward, between his hands. "... I guess it's time to confess the truth." He was slowly approaching the back of the couch. Just as he was about to show Michael, he glanced down to find him fast asleep. "Damn--well, I suppose you're _staying_ ." Brian didn't have the heart to wake Michael up simply to move him. He went to hide the drawing, behind a dresser, planning on showing Michael later when he was awake. Brian went back into the living room and started cleaning up Michael's messy area on the coffee table. Then he took the plate off the chest, eating the last two celery sticks. He brought a blanket with him, shutting off the lights while dimming others further away. 

When he returned, Michael had flipped onto his side, facing the cushions. Brian covered Michael with the thick throw, placing himself where Michael's feet were. He took off the shoes and cotton socks, shifting to rest the ankles and feet on his lap. He massaged the soles, eliciting a few moans from Michael in the darkness. 

Michael rolled onto his back again. "-- _mmm... that feels--soooo good_ ..." Michael yawned and stretched, almost purring out, "... _m'sorry... so_ **tired** ..." 

"Not surprised. If you're not working or taking care of your own little family, you're shadowing Mel." 

"Lamaze class is actually kinda fun--really interesting." Michael pretended his practiced breathing techniques, which made Brian smile bashfully. 

"I'd like to keep what I know about female organs and anatomy to a bare minimum." Brian kept his arms raised when Michael shifted positions, trading feet for head and upper torso. He lay face-down on a pillow placed in Brian's lap. Brian hesitated, but he soon started to rub over Michael's back, but near neck and shoulder blades, sifting through inky black hair. 

"-- _fine... whatever_ ." Michael loosely draped his arms over the plushness of the pillow, turning his head to the side. "... _brian_ ..." 

"... _hmm_ ..." 

"Can you _rub_ my lower back?" Michael arched himself over a little more across Brian's thighs. "It's been aching almost all day." 

Brian neatly folded up the t-shirt hem, revealing pale skin, warm from intense body heat. "You should take a hot shower before bed." 

"--mmm, I will. But for now, your 'magic hands' will suffice." 

Brian hadn't even started doing too much massaging before he heard the soft snores coming from Michael. If he were a complete imbecile Brian would have assumed Michael was only being _himself_ tonight. But he was reminded of a few times, when Lindsay was pregnant with Gus, that she would do much the same antics as Michael had done most of the evening. Right down to the weird non-stop food cravings and lower back pain. 

_Jesus_ ... was Michael suffering sympathetic pregnancy pains with Melanie? Typical of Michael and sort of adorable. 

Brian found the remote, then switched the channel to watch another crappy "edited for television" move they hadn't seen in eons. He leaned back on the couch cushions, savoring the total relaxation of Michael on top of him, staring mindlessly at the plasma screen. It wasn't long before he was out like a light himself, hand tucked under Michael's t-shirt, beneath the thickness of the blanket that kept them warm together. 

**~*~the end**


End file.
